


Keep Your Eyes On Me

by nightbirdrises



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, Blaine dropped out of NYADA and returned to Ohio. Three years ago, Kurt stayed in New York. Three years ago, they had their worst and last fight. What happens when they both turn up in the same place (a gay bar in Manhattan) at the same time (a chilly Friday night in late November)?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Your Eyes On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Influenced by [Shut Up and Dance](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbcCG7PkI18) by Walk the Moon. Be warned: contains a few season 6 spoilers, shameless lyric dropping, and POV flip-flopping. Posted on tumblr [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/post/101911568376).

He hasn’t been out like this in  _months_ , not since he went out with cast members from his small off-Broadway original production in celebration of a relatively successful opening night. The production didn’t exactly make him an instant big name in musical theatre, but it didn’t hurt, either; Kurt Hummel is a name that’s known now, if only among serious enthusiasts.

He’s out tonight because of that, actually. The director of an upcoming Broadway show that the blogs have been buzzing about called him a few days ago and asked to meet with him for an informal chat about getting Kurt the male lead role. They had talked over dinner - about more than just the show and its stubborn producer - and now, to Kurt’s surprise, they’re at a gay bar. Well,  _he_  is. He hasn’t seen the director in about an hour, not since watching him not-so-discreetly slip into the bathroom with a guy whose chest was covered in glitter.

Clearly, the director’s interest in him had been both unprofessional and fleeting.

Kurt shakes his head, declining a second offer to dance with a polite smile. He doesn’t feel much like dancing; he’s only still here because he has nothing better to do anywhere else. Besides, the music is tasteful and, more importantly,  _loud_ , drowning out his internal frustrations and setting his heart pumping in spite of the fact that he hasn’t moved from the bar stool once. A strawberry-coconut daiquiri in hand, Kurt observes the room as if he’s merely watching a movie. The music excites him but the characters are detached from him, simply a bunch of people he doesn’t care to know beyond “reasonably handsome,” “disastrously dressed,” and “exceedingly creepy.”

"You don’t seem like the type to sit around drinking at the bar," comes a voice from behind him; Kurt jumps, turning around wide-eyed. His gaze falls on the bartender, red-haired and grinning. "Guys like you usually have a dance partner by now."

"Guys like me prefer not to dance with complete strangers," Kurt says, wary. It’s not completely truthful - he danced with plenty of strangers the last time he went to a gay bar. Tonight, though, is different. He doesn’t want unfamiliar hands on or near him.

"You saying you have a boyfriend?"

Kurt lets out a breath, shakes his head. “God, no. I haven’t gone on more than a few dates in years. All different guys.”

The bartender bends over so his forearms are resting on the bar. “You’re telling me you came out here, you’re single and hot, but you don’t want to dance with anyone.”

"I didn’t—" Kurt sighs; he’d rather not explain the whole situation with the director to a random bartender who should really be doing his job and not calling him hot and making his cheeks warm. "Yes. Exactly."

"Huh. You’re an interesting guy." Kurt starts to turn away. "How long’s it been since you hooked up with anyone?"

Glaring coldly, Kurt looks back at him. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.” The bartender raises his hands in defense.

"Sorry. Since you had a boyfriend, then."

"Three years. Are you finished?"

The bartender shrugs and moves away, down the bar towards some new customers. Kurt takes a long sip of his drink and sets it down so he can lean back, elbows up on the bar as he watches the sunken dance floor in the middle of the room. 

Three years. Kurt can’t decide if it seems like it’s been forever or the blink of an eye; either way, it doesn’t feel like how he thinks three years should feel. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him, it’s just that he hasn’t really  _seen_  him in all this time. Polite conversations, usually kickstarted by one of their friends’ latest disasters and usually in text messages or over the phone, but even those have dwindled into a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion. Kurt’s seen pictures on Facebook, though he hasn’t recently felt the desire to do more than glance at them when they appear on his feed.

It’s been three years, and things are almost normal again. Like they were never more than good friends in high school.

Why, then, does he still feel like he’s been clinging to a mountain just yards from the peak, like if he tries to reach for the next handhold he’ll either lose his grip and fall or finally,  _finally_  reach his goal?

Kurt turns back to the bar and looks for the bartender, who’s at the other end now. One more drink and he can go home, go to bed, and get some sleep before he has to go to Spotlight for work tomorrow morning. He cranes his neck to peer along the bar, hoping to catch the bartender’s attention without needing to wave or shout over the music. Of course, his back is to Kurt, then his ass as he bends over to grab something - not bad, but Kurt’s seen nicer, and really, he could have worn a more flattering pair of pants - and then he’s straightening up with a bottle of beer in his hand, which he passes along to—

"Blaine?"

 

* * *

 

The bar is air-conditioned, but it’s warm enough that Blaine isn’t shivering like he had been outside, having forgone a heavy jacket. He stands at the bar and keeps from rolling his eyes when the bartender asks to see his ID, as if he’d have been able to get in here in the first place without one. It’s not fake this time - the fake one that he got from Sebastian is still in one of the scrapbooks he left at home.

He’d been tempted to take those to New York with him when he moved here in August, about to give the college thing another try, this time at NYU since there’s no way in hell NYADA would take him back now. It’s not bad, actually; he has a number of options that he didn’t have at NYADA. He could try pre-med, or maybe look into the education department.

It’s weird; after leading the Warblers for so long, becoming an actual teacher seems like the natural thing to do. Something feels off about that, though. He sort of wishes he could go back to being sure of his future again, like the Blaine Anderson that made all those scrapbooks. Of course,  _that_  Blaine thought he would be married by now.

It’s probably a good thing he never got that ring back. He wouldn’t have been able to get rid of it, return it to a jewelry store - he’d have kept it close regardless of the memories, good and bad. Where the ring is now, he has no idea, and he doesn’t intend to ask. 

Being back in New York is making him think too much about everything that happened here. Thankfully, the bartender hands him his beer before he can completely lose himself in his head. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that it’s a bottle of beer that he’s using to distract himself, even after three whole years. It’s a bit pathetic, really - good thing he’s here alone. He’d be the worst date ever in this state, all broody and inexplicably hung up on—

Someone taps him on the shoulder. Blaine briefly wonders if he can get away with ignoring it, but his manners kick in and he turns, a small smile on his face for the sake of being polite. The smile disappears as his jaw drops.

"Hey stranger." 

"Kurt." Blaine stares for another moment before remembering himself and sticking his hand out. "It’s nice to see you."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “A handshake? It hasn’t been  _that_  long, has it?”

"Oh, no, I just—" Blaine pulls his hand back and is starting to apologize when Kurt hugs him. It’s brief, the kind of hug that’s just a nice, friendly hug, except it’s Kurt. With Kurt, things are always just a little bit different. Blaine can’t decide if he’s okay with that or not. Regardless of everything unsaid, though, Blaine smiles at him as they pull apart. "How are you?"

"I’m okay." Glancing down, Blaine notices that Kurt’s holding an empty glass and methodically tracing around the lip with his finger. Clockwise, twice counterclockwise, clockwise. He’s nervous, or uncomfortable, maybe both. Blaine resists the urge to take his hand - that probably won’t help, not anymore.

"Just okay?"

"I’ve had a disappointing night, that’s all," Kurt says, shrugging. Blaine’s smile falters.

"Oh."

"Not because of you!" Kurt adds quickly. "There was just this director, and—" He stops, smiles ruefully. "You don’t want to hear about this."

"No, I do," Blaine says. "If you want to tell me, that is."

"I think I’d rather just hear how you’re doing," Kurt says. His finger has stopped moving; he reaches to place the glass on the bar then holds his arm across his chest. "I especially would like to know why you’re back in the city. Vacation?"

"Uh, I live here now, actually, as of a few months ago." It’s Blaine’s turn to fidget, picking at a spot on his jeans. "I’m trying the college thing again. At NYU."

"Oh." Kurt looks away for a moment and Blaine - feels bad, he should have looked him up when he moved in. It’s not like they’re enemies, they’re still friends. They could probably stop speaking for decades and Blaine would still consider Kurt his friend. But he’d be naïve not to recognize that something broke over the course of that last fight, and in the time between it and his move back to Ohio after dropping out of NYADA. He’d thought it would be better not to bring those ghosts back to both of their lives.

But… looking at Kurt now, even more impossibly handsome than Blaine remembers, he can no longer seem to satisfactorily justify his reasoning for not bothering to simply call his friend and tell him that he’s back.

"Do you have a roommate or something? I know Sam’s still in Ohio…"

"No, I have… the tiniest studio apartment imaginable," Blaine says. "It’s even smaller than that one we, uh, looked at, remember?"

Kurt nods. “Smaller than  _that_? I didn’t think that was possible. You may be renting an apartment for mice.” Blaine laughs and something changes in Kurt’s expression; he looks thoughtful. “Are you here with someone?”

"Oh, no. A classmate recommended this place to me and I thought I’d check it out. You?"

"Nope. Well, I  _was_ , but long story short, he’s nowhere to be seen now and good riddance, too.”

"Bad date?" Blaine asks, trying to be casual.

"It wasn’t a date, it was a meeting with a stage director that ended up looking a lot like a date that I never signed up for. I don’t know, it was weird." Kurt tilts his head and looks up, as if listening to the music. "I was just about to leave, actually."

"Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you—"

"Blaine," Kurt says, looking directly at him. His gaze is a familiar one, intense and impossible to avoid, but Blaine doesn’t know what he could be thinking. "I don’t want to leave anymore."

"Why…" Blaine trails off, noting the way Kurt’s standing now, only the barest trace of his earlier nervousness left. "Would you, um, like me to buy you a drink, then?"

Kurt shakes his head; he reaches and Blaine thinks he’s about to grab his hand, but he takes his arm instead and gently but firmly tugs him away from the bar.

 

* * *

 

He almost expects Blaine to pull his arm out of his grip at first, but he follows Kurt’s lead. He looks a bit confused when Kurt glances at him, but he isn’t hesitating, isn’t saying a word. That could just be because of the music, even louder now that they’re entering the space where it matters most.

He’s about to dance with his ex; it’s like the wedding-that-wasn’t, except the music isn’t slow, doesn’t allow for pretending that they’re still in that wonderful, fairy-tale place that used to exist between them. Kurt decides it’s better this way, better not to look back and just focus on what’s happening right now, because maybe they don’t have a future but they can at least share this moment here.

"Kurt—" Blaine says, cut off when he bumps into someone and apologizes sheepishly. Kurt pulls him around so they’re facing each other, standing too still for the music that’s playing, the bass pounding through their feet. "I don’t know if… shouldn’t we, I mean, do we really want to do this?"

"I’m not forcing you to do anything, and you’re not forcing me," Kurt says, leaning in close so Blaine can hear. "You can leave if you want."

"I… I don’t  _want_  to leave,” Blaine says; Kurt takes his waist, tentative in case he backs off, but he doesn’t, “it’s just… I don’t know if this is a good idea, maybe we should talk—”

"Blaine," Kurt says, interrupting him. Blaine opens his mouth to keep stuttering on, but Kurt shakes his head, tugs him close, whispers gently into his ear, "Just shut up and dance with me, hm?"

He pulls back to see Blaine’s response; Blaine stares, mouths  _okay_  with the corner of his mouth quirked up. Kurt could easily pretend that nothing has changed… or maybe not, he won’t find out either way because he doesn’t plan to try pretending in the first place. That’s not what this is about.

What is it about, then?

 

* * *

 

 _What is he doing?_  Blaine wonders as he falls into the music hips first, enjoying the way Kurt’s grip on him tightens at the waist. There’s no way he’s trying to just forget everything, he looks like he’s had no more than that one drink so it’s not that he’s drunk, so what could compel him to dance with his ex-fiancé, the guy he shouted at in the middle of a restaurant, the guy who shouted right back, the guy who couldn’t handle what had become of them and ended up dropping out of college and moving back home? It’s not like Kurt to ignore stuff like that for the sake of a dance in a club.

But then again, does he really know Kurt anymore?

Kurt’s lips are still near his ear; he can hear his breath puff out as they dance together, exhilarated. Maybe this is just a one time thing, like what Kurt pretended their hotel room escape had been, and he’s burning off steam from his mess of a night with someone he knows. That possibility sits like a weight in Blaine’s chest, slowing him down until Kurt huffs and turns him around — it feels like he’s even stronger now, though that might just be Blaine forgetting how strong he was before. 

Once Kurt’s chest presses to Blaine’s back, however, his brain mercifully short-circuits. “Is this okay?” Kurt mutters into his ear.

"Of course it’s okay," Blaine says, even as he realizes that there’s still space between them. Apart from Kurt’s upper chest pressed against him, and apart from bumping into each other out of necessity in the crowded area, they’re not touching. Blaine tries pushing back, but Kurt keeps his distance. "I thought you wanted to dance with me."

"I am."

"No, you’re holding back." Blaine turns his head, his cheek bumping into Kurt’s nose, and smiles. "If we’re going to do this, we should do it right. Right?"

"Mm, but would you be able to handle it?" It’s the last thing he’d expected Kurt to say; Blaine stammers, then clears his throat to attempt speech again.

"Sure I could. What about you?" In answer, Kurt pulls him back by the waist until they’re finally pressed against each other. Blaine gasps inadvertently at the suddenness of it, how his cheeks burn now that he can feel Kurt’s crotch against his ass. Being so close to Kurt again is something he hasn’t dared to hope for in years, not since he texted Kurt to tell him he and David had broken up and it hadn’t changed anything between them. 

It feels as different as it does familiar - it’s been three years, after all, and though Blaine’s pretty sure he could never completely forget the way Kurt’s body feels pressed against his own, it’s not something he’s used to anymore.

"I don’t know what I’m doing," Kurt admits in his ear, and Blaine almost rolls his eyes, thinking he means dancing which would be ridiculous, Kurt’s amazingly talented with his hips. But it occurs to him that Kurt probably means something else.

"Does it matter?" Blaine asks. Kurt doesn’t say anything else, so Blaine dares to do something crazy; he grabs Kurt’s right hand at his waist and brings it up, holds it to his chest and right over his heart.

 

* * *

 

He can feel Blaine’s heartbeat in spite of the overpowering music. His own heart skips a beat and he realizes, in the same moment, that this isn’t him trying to recover what they had, even temporarily. It’s not him pretending that they never broke up, but it’s also not pretending that this is a one time thing. In fact, he’s certain it’s not a one-time thing at all, which is a bit worrying, all things considered - but among the lights, music, and people, he can’t imagine anything better than having Blaine next to him.

What this is, he thinks, is rediscovery. A new beginning.

Getting back together the first time hadn’t really been a new beginning the way this could be; that had been the natural course of things, simply the way their paths were meant to travel. This, though, was never inevitable. It’s pure chance that they ran into each other here, and they could just as easily have gone on with their lives if they hadn’t… or even if they had but never started dancing with each other. It’s not romantic; thinking of what happened to them still hurts, and there’s still the question of whether or not it’s  _really_ possible for them to start anew and succeed.

But it’s a chance, a gamble that Kurt’s willing to take.

That is, if Blaine’s willing to take it with him.

Kurt grips Blaine’s shirt over his heart - it’s not an expensive or fragile shirt as far as he can tell - and says, “What are you thinking right now, Blaine?”

"That’s a good question," Blaine says, huffing out a breathless laugh. "I do think I’ve missed you like crazy. Uh… I think I’m sorry for not telling you I came back to New York. I—"

"It’s okay," Kurt says, accidentally interrupting him. "Not telling me, I mean. I completely understand."

"I…" Blaine trails off, shakes his head. "I think I need to look at you right now." Kurt lets him turn around, dropping his hands from Blaine’s body and watching as Blaine takes his waist in turn and pulls their hips together. He idly observes that Blaine seems to have taken up boxing again, if his arms and shoulders are any indication. The thought dies out when Blaine kisses him, off-center and hard, their teeth clacking and Kurt’s head ringing from the impact.

"Ouch," Kurt mumbles in a brief interlude when Blaine takes a breath. Blaine’s lips are curved into a smile when they kiss again.

"Sorry." They’ve stopped moving but the people around them haven’t - Kurt imagines they’re getting some dirty looks for being in the way, but he doesn’t particularly care. He lets Blaine lead, lets him kiss his lips again and again. "I think…"

Again.

"Kurt, I think…"

Again, less certain.

"I, um. Never mind." He goes in for another kiss but Kurt turns his head so he kisses his cheek instead.

"Tell me."

 

* * *

 

_I think we should try again._

It’s a stupid thing to say, and he tells Kurt just that, his eyes downcast. The last thing Kurt probably wants is to think about getting back together after three years of minimal contact and not even two hours in a bar. Kurt ushers him to the edge of the dance floor where there aren’t as many people moving around.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he says, and it’s the pet name more than anything that makes Blaine look up and into Kurt’s eyes. He’s smiling with them, kind and free of judgment. A look reserved for the people whom Kurt cares about. "You don’t have to tell me, but I promise I won’t think it’s stupid, whatever it is."

Looking at Kurt - really  _looking_  at him, making eye contact, the color of them barely discernible in the dark room but Blaine knows the blue of Kurt’s eyes exactly, a detail which time hasn’t dulled - sparks a flood of rapid-fire thoughts in Blaine’s mind. A few stick out and linger.

_He looks beautiful._

_When will I get the chance to be with him like this again?_

_What do I have to lose that I haven’t already lost?_

_Maybe the soulmate thing isn’t complete bullshit after all._

_If I don’t do anything now, I won’t have the courage to do it later._

_Damn it, say_ something _._

"I think I still love you," he blurts out. He quickly covers his mouth; that’s an even more stupid thing to say than the original statement and he wouldn’t blame Kurt if he just walked away right now. But he doesn’t. He looks a little taken aback, sure, but he’s still here. Blaine can’t imagine why.

"Oh, wow." Kurt glances around; Blaine sort of wishes he could melt into the floor. "You know, I think I still love you too."

 _Oh._ "You know you don’t have to say it just because I said it," Blaine says, cautiously giving him an out just in case. Kurt smiles a little.

"I know. I didn’t say it because you did, I said it because it’s true, I think." He takes a breath, then takes Blaine’s hand. "What do you say we give it one more shot? Just one, no more than that."

Blaine nods, his chest expanding with relief and the giddy laughter he’s holding in. “One last chance,” he says. He thinks of something and frowns. “Does this mean you want me to come home with you?”

"No," Kurt says firmly after a moment. "We start fresh, okay? We’ll go out to dinner tomorrow night, I’ll buy, and we’ll see where we feel like going from there."

"Okay."

"And please don’t bring an engagement ring to dinner." Blaine lets the laughter out, grinning.

"Don’t worry, I wasn’t even considering it. I can’t afford one right now anyway." Kurt opens his mouth to say something, but he merely smiles, covering it up with a squeeze of Blaine’s hand.

"I should get home. I still feel a bit buzzy." Blaine’s mood drops, but only for a nanosecond. He beams and holds his elbow out.

"At least allow me to walk you home." Kurt stares at him, lips parted, and seems to melt a little, his posture relaxing as he links his arm through Blaine’s.

"I would be honored."

 

* * *

 

Two months later - two weeks before Valentine’s Day - Kurt pulls a small, dusty box out from the depths of a drawer. He considers it for a moment, then puts it back after brushing off the dust. It’s not nearly time for that yet; he knows better than to rush by now. But for the first time in three years, he thinks he might have the chance to open that box again.

It’s just a chance, a roll of the dice, but he can’t wait to see the look on Blaine’s face if the dice land in their favor.


End file.
